


Blasphemy

by vienna_waits



Category: due South
Genre: Child Abuse, Community: ds_aprilfools, Dark, Drama, Gen, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienna_waits/pseuds/vienna_waits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parenting's not supposed to be a full-contact sport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blasphemy

**Author's Note:**

> Rated "teen" for references to child abuse. Not shown, just referred to.
> 
> Written for the ds_aprilfools challenge in April 2007.

Frannie sat on the toilet lid, swinging her legs in their white stockings and shiny black patent-leather Mary Janes, and concentrated on holding a bag of frozen peas over one eye. It seemed terribly important to look bored, or at least calm, but to her horror, tiny little high-pitched whimpers kept burbling up her throat and from her lips like bubbles rising to the top of a glass. It reminded her of the sounds Ray's gerbil Artie made when you held him a little too tight. Her free hand fidgeted with the frayed threads around the edge of the quarter-sized hole in her stockings, right at the knee where she usually ended up wrecking them.

"I'm sorry, Mama," she mumbled, her voice thick and wobbly. "Honest, I didn't mean to tear my stockings. I'm so sorry..." Her throat closed up, and one wayward tear spilled out of her non-frozen-pea eye and slithered down the side of her face.

Mama turned from the medicine cabinet over the sink, the Q-tips in one hand and the dreaded brown bottle of antiseptic in the other. "Oh, cara," she said, and hurried over, "don't be sorry. It wasn't the stockings. It wasn't your fault." The porcelain clinked softly as she dumped the items on the back of the toilet, and then Mama's thumb, soft and warm, wiped the tear from her face. "It wasn't your fault," Mama repeated, her voice gentle, her huge hand cupping Frannie's cheek. "All right?" Her eyes searched Frannie's, and Frannie finally managed a nod before Mama drew her hand away.

"Now let's have a look at that," she said, waving at the bag of peas, and Frannie lifted it off her eye, which throbbed in time with her heart. She tried through force of will to slow her heart down so it wouldn't hurt so much. Mama's dark eyes darted back and forth, examining her for a long moment, and her forehead creased into a wrinkle. "Well, I've seen worse," she finally decided. "Let's leave that on for a few more minutes." Mama turned her attention to her head. "Which side did he—which side got pulled?"

Frannie silently touched her left braid, and Mama leaned in to look, so close she could smell Mama's lilac perfume and feel her breath tickling her ear. "Just a few red spots," she said, straightening and opening the antiseptic bottle. Frannie stiffened as the wet, cold Q-Tip stung the side of her head once, twice, three times, but she didn't cry.

"That's a brave girl," Mama praised her, and went and got the little white stepstool from under the sink. "I'll take your braids out, and then you can brush your teeth and put your nightie on, okay?"

"Okay," Frannie said, and Mama sat down on the stool and deftly undid her braids. She hummed as she worked, a tune Frannie had heard Mama hum hundreds of times before without knowing what it actually was. It sounded happy. Like merry-go-round music.

And for some reason it made her start crying again.

"Sssh, bella, what's wrong? Am I hurting you?"

"No," she sobbed, and then blurted, "Why? Why does Papa get so angry?"

Mama's hands paused for a moment, and she muttered, "Parenting's not supposed to be a full-contact sport."

Frannie wrinkled her nose in confusion at that. "What?" Sometimes grown-ups made no sense at all.

"It's complicated," Mama sighed. "Sit still. I'm almost done."

***

Frannie lay in bed waiting for Mama to come in and kiss her good night; the light from the hallway cast a warm, golden arc across her bed. Her eye still hurt a lot. She couldn't resist reaching up to touch it, to poke it a little to make sure it was still there, that it wasn't about to fall off or something.

A shadow came up the hallway, and Frannie held perfectly still until she realized it was Mama.

Mama took both Frannie's little hands in hers. "Let's say our prayers," Mama said, and the two of them recited it together like they always did: "I love you, God, with all my might. Keep me safe all through the night." _Please,_ Frannie added in her head, _please keep me safe. And Mama and Ray too_.

"Sleep tight," Mama said, and kissed her left cheek.

The light from the hallway diminished to a soft yellow glow under the door as Mama pulled the door shut with a gentle snick, and then the floorboards groaned like cranky old men as Mama moved down the hall toward her bedroom.

She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she let it out. She counted to ten five times, and then, asking God to forgive her for not trusting Him, she crept to the door and locked it.


End file.
